Chapter 17: Edward Robinson's view
by Widom
Summary: A remake of Chapter 17 from one of Tom Robinson's children who does not exist, but should. Chapter 17 being Tom Robinson's trial.


**A kind-of interesting version of chapter 17 in this book. Written from the point of view of one of Tom Robinson's children (who doesn't exist. Yes, I made him up. But he should exist.)**

Chapter 17

"Edward Louis Robinson, if you don't git back here, I'm gonna skin you alive! Ooooh, you just wait until you' Daddy gits home!"

"Yes, ma'am!" I said, laughing, as I took off down the dark road, the quarter moon lighting what little obstacles were foolish enough to get in my way. I ran like lightning down the well-familiar road, past the oaks near the Ewells' place, before slowing. I listened intently for the sound of footsteps pounding in pursuit, but I didn't hear any, nor did I expect to. My mother, Helen, was far to smart a woman to leave two adventurous children to pursue one. I let out a relieved whoosh of air. And, thank god, she acted like I had expected her to. I may have been a fast sprinter for my age, but there's no disobedient child alive who can outrun my mother.

I grinned. I had been counting on my mother's head for figures when she had originally forbade me to go to the courthouse that morning.

"Eddie," she had said, looking daggers at me, her eldest son, " if you go anywhere near your Father's trial, I'll wallop you one so bad you won't soon forget it! So don't you dare do it!"

"Yes, ma'am." I had replied dutifully then and, although I'm sure she didn't believe a word, every time since then until well past seven o'clock. Then I had promptly ignored everything she had said by running off towards the courthouse. Actually, I was running quite a bit late, and I was certain that the trial was well over by then. Probably even nearing the jury's verdict, but I didn't run faster or take a short cut. In fact, as soon as I was nearing the Ewells' front door, I slowed down to just barely moving.

"He-ey, Edward Louis _Robinson!_" shouted several Ewell children from inside the darkened Ewell residence, before bursting into hysterical laughter, as though being a Robinson was any worse than being a Ewell. I ignored them and kept walking, although just a little faster, right on up until I reached the courthouse. As I saw the tall, dark wooden door, a sense of foreboding came over me. I shrugged it away and reached for the knob.

"Well, hello, Edward, how are you?"

I jumped in shock, and turned around to stare at Dolphus Raymond, who I hadn't noticed before. He was sitting silently under a small oak tree, nursing his drink in a brown paper sack.

"Just fine, thank you, Mr. Raymond." I replied pleasantly and smiled indulgently at him. It wasn't a very nice smile, not really even a smile of greeting. It was the kind of smile you might have given a foolish child who hadn't quite learned the rules of a game. I thought briefly of his lifestyle.

Dolphus Raymond may not have been a child, but he certainly didn't know the rules of society. My smile turned kinder. He may have been an odd sort of man, but he was the nicest white folk I had ever encountered, I thought as I brushed a lock of curly black hair from my brown eyes, and reached for the knob again. He continued without hesitation.

"Good. That's nice. And how is your mother?"

"She's fine, Mr. Raymond. Sad and weary, but… fine."

"Good. Mrs. Robinson is such a nice lady. She doesn't need this."

"Pardon?" I lowered my hand.

"This trial. This entire bunch of trumped-up nonsense."

"Pardon?" I repeated like some kind of broken wind-up doll, curious, however, as to Mr. Raymond's peculiar behavior. I had always thought him strange, but now he was just being down right weird.

He looked up at me with sorrowful eyes.

"How old are you, Eddie?"

"Near'n on 14, Mr. Raymond."

"You know what your father was charged with?"

"Yes'm."

I reached for the door again. He shook his head.

"You don't want to go in there, Eddie."

I froze.

"Why not, Mr. Raymond?"

"Well, son, it's not pleasant. The trial's over and the jury should be comin' on back any moment. The decision's gonna hurt Tom enough without one of his younguns' witnessing his defeat."

"His defeat? Mr. Raymond, my Father's innocent. Surely you know that."

"Of course I know that. I don't think there's a man, woman, or child in that courtroom who doesn't, but it ain't gonna make one wit of difference. You'll see."

"Thank you, Mr. Raymond, but no court convicts the innocent." I said defensively, since I was still child enough to believe in the good of mankind, and for a while there before my Father was caged, he spoke of nothing but the "good man" defending him.

"That's the way it should be, son. But it's not. Go on in and see for yourself."

"I will." I said honestly, yanked open the door and stepped inside the stuffy courtroom. Nobody paid any attention to me outside of a few glances for opening the door. Nobody looked away from the jury as they entered. Remembering what Dolphus Raymond had said, I crammed my body behind a potted plant near the door. If indeed my daddy did lose, I didn't want him to see me.

The jury began.

"By unanimous vote, we find you, Tom Robinson, guilty of beating and raping Mayella Ewell."

The air around me seemed to thicken and freeze. I couldn't breath as I looked at the back of my Daddy's nearly shaved head. "We look alike," I thought somewhat hysterically, "with brown eyes, dark skin, and black hair. My hair was curled, however, and my features finer, more like my mother than anyone else. My Daddy was there, in the shape of my eyes and the tilt of my mouth, but more importantly than appearances , I _saw _my Daddy. I liked my Daddy, knew him, loved him, knew what kind of man he was. I was not ashamed of him for either his withered arm or his faults. I knew he could never, ever have done, morally if not physically, what the jury said he was guilty of. Why could nobody understand that?

I glanced at the dark head sitting next to my Father, concluded that it must belong to the lawyer. I stared angrily at the back of his head. "How dare you let my Daddy be convicted!" I thought.

He turned, and our eyes connected with a swell of pity, worry, and compassion through the leaves on the plant. I glanced away, ashamed of my anger. He _had _tried. I knew enough about courts and gossip to know that, and that he had suffered greatly for all his efforts. And that he was morally good enough to not care what race his client was, to try his hardest no matter what.

All around me, people were getting up, leaving the courtroom, saying what a horrible man my father was, and wasn't that fun? All I could think about was my Father, defeated, the unnatural slump of his shoulders, the sadness in his eyes. I stood up slowly, and moved from behind the plant, lost in my thoughts. I guess that was why I had never heard him approach.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met. Do I know you?" said a voice somewhere above my head, and I looked up into the kind, tired, thickly glasses-covered eyes of Atticus Finch.

I almost smiled. Of course he didn't know me. The few times he had come to comfort my mother, I had been long gone, off making mischief. I glanced down so he wouldn't see the truth in my eyes. I hadn't wanted to be known.

"No, sir. I'm Eddie Robinson. That's my Father." I told him as I watched my father leave the room. Shackled and escorted, I noticed, by men with guns.

"Oh, I see. Well, don't you worry Mr. Robinson. We've yet to have an appeal, and I'm hopeful. You should be as well."

"Yes'm, Mr. Finch. Thank you." I said, looking up, but he had already left to follow my father, to try to ease the worry from his eyes. I smiled sadly after them, and glanced up at the commotion in the colored balcony.

Surprised, I watched as three young white children, a girl and two boys, exited after the Reverend Sykes. I smiled, and thought briefly that the eldest boy looked to be around my age, before I brushed my thoughts aside with reason. I wasn't Dolphus Raymond. If I acted upon my curiosity, even said "hi" to a white child, I would be labeled a fool and disgusted.

I followed them with my eyes, and knew I could never know those children. I smiled sadly as I watched them follow Reverend Sykes outside.


End file.
